


Stereotypes and Soulmates

by LeggoxMyxGreggo



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Banshee Roger, Dork Server Challenge, Dryad Brian, Gen, Incubus Freddie, Mythical Beings & Creatures, Pre-Relationship, witch john
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-15
Updated: 2019-04-15
Packaged: 2020-01-13 17:08:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18473362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeggoxMyxGreggo/pseuds/LeggoxMyxGreggo
Summary: John considers for a time, watching his fingers twist around each other. “Does every witch have a familiar?” He raises his head finally to search his grandfather's face.“The ones who love the strongest do.”





	Stereotypes and Soulmates

“That’s a little unusual..isn’t it?” John raises his head at the voice, tilting his head as he considers the question. Turning to follow her line of sight, all he saw was Brian.

“A dryad?” He looks back at the woman. “Not really..maybe for the city-”

The woman shakes her head, “No, no. I meant as a familiar.” She takes the herbs from his hands.

John blinks, realization of what she was saying slowly sinking in. “Oh! He’s not-he’s…” He cuts himself off as Brian returns to his side with a smile, holding a few sprigs of lavender in his hand. “Just a friend.” He puts emphasis on the words, taking the lavender from Brian and passing it to the vendor. She hums, offers a small smile to the dryad beside him and passes John his items. 

“Of course. I apologize.” A small cat jumps onto the counter as he turns to leave. He meets it’s gaze, narrowing his eyes as though daring it to do something as he waited for Brian to follow.

They’re out the door before Brian speaks up. “Wasn’t very nice.” John doesn’t even try to understand the comment, just hums and lets Brian continue, “you were very short with her.”

“It was rude what she’d brought up.” It was Brian’s turn to make a small sound. “Familiars...it’s private. Turn in here.” John motions to the next shop and lets the conversation drop. Thankfully Brian let's it go as they continue to work their way down the row of stalls, each stand with something different. 

The warm weather always brought out the older witches, the ones who had something good to sell. And a lot to say. The word ‘familiar’ follows him from one stall to the next, Brian trailing behind as though to make their point. 

John pointedly doesnt think about it that night as he ties small bundles of herbs together. He doesn't think of familiars or pretty dryads as he slips extra lavender into one of the bundles to help with sleep.

\-----------------------------------

 

His mother worked quickly with the knife, carefully dragging it over the stem to remove the thorns from each rose. There were four on the counter that ready bore her mark. The red petals are alluring. He reaches out for one, cradling it softly in his palm. 

“Gentle, it won't work if they're crushed.”

John rolls the stem carefully, “why not?” Magic came natural to witches the different conduits for their power, not so much.

“Because they won't sell,” his mother teases as she reaches for another rose. “It's the look that draws people in, the call of ‘forbidden’ magic,” she laughs and smiles at him. 

The roses would only carry a weak potion. Many said it was a love potion but it was nothing more than a brew to increase the attention one received. John touches one of the missing thorns. “Why do people like them so much?”

“The roses?” John shakes his head and his mother hums, “potions?” He nods for her to continue. “The idea of controlling fate maybe. Or the thought of everlasting love.”

“Like you and dad?” It was his mother's turn to nod in agreement.

\-----------------------------------

John smiles as Freddie twirls the rose in his hand, each petal carefully opened, and leaned toward the flustered shifter. The man's eyes darted from Freddie to John. “I'm sorry, that's… bold but..I'm taken.” The man smiles at Freddie, pats his arm before slipping into the store behind him and Freddie rounds on John with a pout.

“Am I losing my charm?”

“You weren't charming him, Freddie.” John pauses, raising a brow. “You weren't, right?”

The incubus raises an offended hand to his chest before grabbing John's arm to drag him away. “Not at all.”

He nudges Freddie as soft fingers intertwine with his own. “I was kidding. Besides, it wouldn't have worked on him. He's taken. “

“It's worked on taken people before.” It's almost amusing to John how much this was bothering Freddie, to be turned down so easily without so much a second glance. 

John shakes his head. “Not the same kind of taken. He's a familiar, his wife's a witch.”

“Oh, did she cast a spell on him?” Freddie teases and John feels the lead feeling in his gut.

\-----------------------------------

“Its powerful magic,” his grandfather's smile made the wrinkles crinkle up around his eyes, “old magic. Not the kind that you control, the kind threaded into the world.”

“Like a siren's call?” 

“Much more powerful. The only magic to create love.”

“Magic can't make love, papa.” It was the first thing he'd learned after his mother explained why he couldn't just charm the neighbor girl. Even if he had only wanted her to be his friend.

“No it can't,” his grandfather reaches for him and he climbs into his lap happily, “but it can make it grow and flourish.” John frowns. It didn't make sense. It just made him think of his mother's flowers. “It can build a bond so strong that it takes great will to break it.”

John considers for a time, watching his fingers twist around each other. “Does every witch have a familiar?” He raises his head finally to search his grandfather's face.

“The ones who love the strongest do.”

\-----------------------------------

“Magic doesn't work like that, Freddie.” John frowns, slowly giving in as a soft kiss is pressed to his temple. “Familiars don't work like that.”

Silence stretches on for so long that John begins to think that Freddie's dropped the subject. “What is it, a familiar?”

It's John's turn to go quiet. How could he even begin to explain the pull, the magic weaving through their lives to create a bond so strong that it has driven people to madness losing it? 

“It's kind of like a soulmate.”

\-----------------------------------

“You can’t do that, John.” His mother’s gaze was sharp, he’d never seen her this angry before. Tears prick at the edge of his vision and he tries to blink them away. “You don’t charm people.” Her voice is stern, the hold she has over his hands firm. The tears threaten to fall. 

He hadn’t meant to make his mother angry. “I didn’t..”

Dropping his own hands, her warm hands come up to cup his cheeks before pulling him into a hug. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

John clings to her tightly, burying his face into her shoulder. The neighbor girl had run off as soon as his mother had stormed out of the front door.. “I just want her to like me.”

“You can’t do that.” John lets go of his mother to watch her straighten and she takes his hand to lead him inside. Playing outside was over then. Disappointment settles and he frowns, stomping after her. He peeks over his shoulder to try and see the neighbor. He just wanted her to be his friend, he didn’t get why it was so bad.

“You used it on dad! Everyone says-” He nearly runs into his mother’s back as she stops suddenly and turns to him.

Crouching low, she speaks quietly like she was sharing a secret. “I did not charm your father.” 

The kids at school always said that witches charmed their partners. That they used magic. He frowns, trying to understand, “but he’s your familiar…”

“Yes.”

\-----------------------------------

John doesn't think he'll ever not be impressed by Roger's self control. He's met vampires decades old that couldn't control their charm but Roger never fails to keep himself in check with every song. Even tinged with magic, Roger's voice only served to draw people in but never once did he harm them. Though he always offered a sheepish grin in apology over the top of his drum set, sticks twirling before he dives in to the next song.

A rhythmic tapping brings John out of his thoughts. He raises his eyes to watch Roger tap a beat with his spoon on the bowl in front of him. John stops, cocks his hip against the counter and waits. Sharp eyes meet his own and the spoon hits the counter with a clatter. “Focused?”

John blinks and rolls his eyes, “I had been. Until someone so kindly interrupted.” Roger doesnt even try to look apologetic as he takes the offered bags to start packing them with the freshly dried herbs and flowers that John had just finished mixing together. After they had begun selling the small sachets at the market, John started making Freddie and Roger help him to pack them. The potpourri was nothing special, mixes that brought affections, a spot of luck or a good night's rest. They weren't strong, more of a placebo if John were quite honest but people enjoyed it and he was more than happy to put his own skills to use.

It's almost domestic, John working quietly on another mixture while Roger carefully filled the bags, tying them closed with delicate ribbon. He can hear the quiet clicking of tiles from the living room where Freddie and Brian played a game of scrabble. In moments like this, he almost gives in to the pull of the old magic. Almost lets it lull him into the belief that he could have this with any one of the three men he's come to share his life with. 

The realization dawns slowly.

\-----------------------------------

“What is it?” John tilts his head to check that his classmate was talking to him. He was. John wasn’t listening, absorbed in the board in front of him.

“What is what?” He sets the soldering iron down, sensing that this was going to need his attention. 

The man leans in to his space, trying and failing to whisper, “A familiar? Is it true that you cast spells on people and keep them as your slaves?”

This again. John sighs and rubs his eyes. “No. We don’t ‘cast spells on people’, that’s a stereotype.”

“Okay, then what is it? How do you make them fall in love with you?”

“Magic can’t make love.”

“How do you do it then?”

John can feel his patience starting to thin. “A familiar isn’t just some person bound to a witch for their every whim.” He glares at the man in front of him wondering what he had done to make him think that these were questions he wanted to answer. “They’re a soulmate, a bond created through old magic, people who can’t live without each other.” He pushes himself away from the table, grabbing his tools to put them away, “And just because I’m the only witch in here doesn’t mean I want to answer your intolerant questions.” 

\-----------------------------------

It's two weeks before John allows himself to actually entertain the thought. His three band mates. His best friends. His familiars. Once he's admitted it, it becomes almost glaringly obvious.

Another month passes before the words are finally breathed life. 

Roger's curled into his side, his hair shower damp against John's shoulder. On his other side, Freddie is sprawled over Brian's lap, fingers tangled in what John knows to be soft curls. If he tilts his head, he can pillow it on Brian's shoulder, he's so close. 

John reaches a hand out, slipping his fingers between Freddie's. The action earns him a soft smile and the words come unbidden, “I think you're my familiars.” His cheeks are warm when he feels three pairs of eyes on him. 

He braces for the worst and sees the moment the Freddie really understands what he's said. 

Brian's confused, “familiars?” is nearly lost in Freddie's almost pleased echo. John nods slowly, worrying his bottom lip. 

Roger hasn't spoken up beside him. He hasn't moved either. 

“Aren't familiars supposed to be..shifters?” Brian sounds unsure and John hopes he hasn't ruined this. 

“A stereotype.” He wonders briefly how often that word has been brought up in the flat between the four of them. Enough that Brian just nods in lieu of an apology. Roger's voice is so close to his ear that John nearly jumps, “what does it mean?”

John knows what Roger is asking without the clarification. What does this mean for them? 

“It doesn't have to mean anything.” He offers, tearing his eyes from Freddie's worried gaze to look at Roger. 

“And if we want it to mean something?” There's a touch of charm to Roger's voice, a soft lilt that gives off just how affected he was. 

John doesn't speak louder than a whisper when he finally finds his voice, “then..I'd like to take you to dinner?” The tension cracks with the laughter that bubbles from Freddie. Roger's giggles join Freddie's and John can't help smiling, melting in to Brian's side as his arm comes up to curl around John's shoulder. 

“How long have you known?” Brian's tone is soft, thoughtfully curious. 

He considers the question carefully, “for months, I suppose.”

The follow up question, “why didn't you say something earlier,” makes John realize how ridiculous his worrying had been. He tilts his head to look at Brian before looking down at his and Freddie's still intertwined hands.

“I can't say that I have a good answer.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you annieapple for letting me ramble about this.


End file.
